The Punishment Of The Gods (Omnibus 1-5)

by Jake Yaniak

'Is this not a good fire that we see before us?' I asked after a brief pause.

  Revere answered, 'It is good, for by it the beasts are kept at bay.'

  'Which is the very purpose for which we set it. Indeed, we can see now just what the fool Cheftan means when he asks for that truth from which our 'oughts' are derived. In this case, it is our desire for warmth and security that binds our course to set a fire. It is as though we had said, "If we are to be safe from beasts in the night, then we have no choice but to make a fire and keep watch upon it. We 'ought' therefore, to make a fire." Why did old King Agradis feel it necessary to sent out emissaries? It was because he desired peace, and said to himself, "If I will have peace with my neighbors, then I must send my servants to inform them thereof." Good and Evil are judged by the will; this is the truth, but it also gives rise to great absurdity and contradiction. For what is good to one man may be evil to another. The fire, for instance, is not good for the wolves who haunt the woods in darkness, envying the flesh on our bones; for by it they are made to suffer want and hunger.'

  'Every moment you sound more like that Cheftan,' Rahdmus laughed, 'But nonetheless, continue.'

  'Good and evil, we have said, are determined by the will. There can be little doubt of that when once we have given the matter sufficient thought. It is to the hunter that an arrow is good, not to the deer it pierces. Likewise, hooks and lines serve the will of the fisherman, and are therefore good, but they serve not the will of the fish that dies thereon. To the wolf it is bad to set fires, but to man it is life. It is by will alone by which good and evil can be determined. The warrior will call good only that blade that swings straight and true, severing the flesh of his foes. That blade that shatters when struck or that bends when it ought to pierce will be cast aside ere the battle is fought. Will a man call a shoe good, if his foot is not contained within it?'

  'I think you have sufficiently proven to me,' Daryas said with a smile, 'the dependence that good and evil have upon the will.'

  'I cannot say it enough,' I answered, 'for in this truth lies the secret by which the righteous and the wicked are forever separated. Did not Zinglus, as he planned his fell deed, consider it to be right? Did he not think he did good? For it was in his heart to avenge his master's foes for their slander - and thus his wrath was brought against the lord of the northern city. But it was not by his will that he is to be judged. It is the will of his master, the king who elected to send him forth in his name, that will judge him. He was, in his own eyes, vindicated, but he was not an emissary for himself. Therefore, he was a wicked emissary, according to the purposes of the one who made him such. When we look about the world and see that serpents, goblins, men and dwarves alike have wills, it should not surprise us then that they war often upon one another. For what else can come to pass, when every creature acts according to his own wishes?

  'This is why a traitor can be called a hero and a villain at once; a hero to those who he serves, and a villain to those he betrayed. It is according to the wills of each nation respectively that he is judged one or the other. Are not your enemies, the priests of Amlaman, called 'holy men' in Amlaman, and devil worshippers in your own land? And is it not the same for the priests of your god Pelas, who sacrifice unto him atop Dadron's Hill?

  'Why then do men condemn one another so harshly? When they call others wicked, they say nothing more than that they like them not. But such sentiments speak more about the nature of the one who condemns, and says nothing about the nature of the one thereby condemned. In the eyes of another man the wicked man may find acceptance, and the righteous man, condemnation. The wicked man might declare himself righteous because he does what his own will requires, and in doing so he declares himself to be righteous on no worse grounds than all those that condemn him; namely, he does so on the basis of will, even as do his enemies.'

  'We ought not be surprised,' Rahdmus said soberly, 'that even the most wicked of men often believe they have done right in all things.'

  'Indeed,' I said. 'But to say simply that I do not like another man, is less than what men mean when they use the word evil. They mean to say that he is truly evil, that his wickedness cannot be removed by a mere change of stance or by a different point of view.'

  'What then is to be done?' Revere asked. 'How can a man be judged then? How can he be bound with duties?'

  'He might be bound by power,' Rahdmus suggested. 'For by fear of death and chains are many bound to their duties.'

  'Indeed,' I answered. 'But such power is simply the will of another run amuck! In Kollun, if their democracy yet lives, it is the will of the majority that dominates and legislates, making the most popular opinions into laws. It is not more than mere opinion simply because it is the common opinion. In Marin it is the will of the Queen alone that has sway. Thus it is that at every succession there is a change in law; for the will of the queen varies from age to age. The threat of the civil power will mandate different duties according to the shifting wills and various moods of their ever-changing rulers. Man can be both good and evil at the same time. Or the wicked man may, at the death of one Queen, be made righteous at the ascent of another, supposing the latter to be of a different mind than the former. Power can give us a reason to act in one way or another, but it does not give good and evil a source other than that of human will. A man may, by king's order, burn a village to the ground for fear of punishment. That is what the king wishes, and insofar as the man wishes to avoid the wrath and condemnation of his king - he ought to obey them. But if he wishes to be good, not just in his own eyes, or in the eyes of his masters, then that which binds him must be from something more certain than the wandering will of the people or the will of their master.'

  'How then can a man be good?' Daryas said, now seeming quite affected. 'You have said that a man must do what he is supposed to do? What do you mean by that? For it is a very simple thing to say; that man ought to do what he ought to do.'

  'I say it not because it is difficult to understand. I say it because it is very easy to overlook when the whole world tosses words about carelessly, never taking thought to their meaning. What ought a man do? It is a sword for war, a hammer for the smith, an arrow for the archer; all of these things are judged by the will of he that imbues them with purpose - their maker. To be good,' I said, 'Man must do what he was made to do; he must do the will of his maker, and not the will of his contemporaries.'

  'But how does a man know what is good and what is evil, then?' Revere asked, probably thinking about the matter for the first time in his whole life. 'For all that we know is presented to us as truths, but never as commands; we see what is, but not what ought to be.'

  'You have given the answer already,' I answered. 'For if we know only what presents itself to us, we cannot know.'

  Daryas just shook his head with great frustration, Rahdmus looked long and hard at the fire, and Revere straightened up and squinted his eyes at me. Finally, however, Rahdmus gave the answer, 'When knowledge fails you, Revere, then choice must take its place. If a man knew certainly what course of action would bring him the greatest joy, he would take that course without hesitation, even as a man swats a mosquito from his neck without thinking if there be some better way of ending his irritation. But when the causes and effects are beyond our power to predict, then we must make a choice. Is this not so?' he said, looking to me.

  'You are correct,' I answered, 'The world gives us no hint one way or the other, so we must choose the path ourselves. The question, then, is not which path is correct - I mean, which path is correct in the way that a sentence may be true or false, but rather, what our choice says about us. For we are all equally ignorant, whether we admit it or not. But those who seize upon this ignorance and pretend that it is permission to do whatsoever they will, prove by their actions the great willfulness and selfishness that lies within their hearts. The Nihlion are those who have chosen the other path, and we, admitting our ignorance, lay our faces to the dirt and ask of heaven itself, 'What shall I do
? For I am lost. Which of these two characters is most useful to the Eternal One I shall leave you to judge for yourself.'

  'And what does He have for me to do?' Daryas asked.

  'That is something that I cannot answer,' I said, 'for I am not a prophet.'

  There was a long silence, but at last Rahdmus rose to his feet and said, 'The ancient devils, Pelas and Agonistes, have run from their Fate for long enough. Now is the time of their judgment; their mischief must be brought to an end. This is the word of the Eternal One.'

  'And I am to accomplish this?' Daryas said with great surprise.

  'Not alone,' Rahdmus said, 'for no man ever truly acts alone. It is the will of heaven that this be done, and it will be done, whether you play your part with honor or not.'

  'Indeed,' I said, 'The world is the work of the Eternal One, and he will see to it that his ends are brought about. For he has, the Nihlion teach, a Guarantor for his labors.'

  'Theodysus,' Rahdmus said.

  'Theodysus,' I repeated, 'he who alone is righteous, and by whom alone is the world made righteous. Remember Daryas, in yourself you will find great evil, and also great good. But all your good and evil are born of your own will. Cease from all willfulness and you will find at last the power to escape the shadow in which you were born. In all your trials, Daryas, remember that name, Theodysus, and the star that is named for him; let it be a light to you and a comfort for your soul.'

  Lord Havoc spoke again of his task, saying, 'You must take the Sword of Pelas, which your ancestor Galvahir bore, to Dadron, and let fate take care of the rest. But do not lose sight of this fact: The strife that now engulfs the whole continent of Weldera has but one purpose, to bring the ambitions of Pelas and his fell brother to naught.'

  'And are the people just so many insects, to be squashed by the gods in their contests?' Revere complained.

  'If that is the case, then it is the case, and no manner of complaining shall alter it, Revere, son of the east,' Rahdmus said loudly. 'I do not like it any more than you do,' he added, 'but remember, child, that no man can see all ends, and we cannot tell from where we stand whether or not it would be better for this present conflict to end immediately, or to play out as it shall. It is only he who has a view of the whole that can judge whether this or that part fulfills its role. And he must not only see the whole work, but also the pattern.'

  Daryas said little more that night, but sat quietly in thought. In his mind echoed the voice of Leonara, saying, 'Return to me, my love, and bring no evil thing with you. Then only can I be free. Return to me.'

  'My love,' Daryas thought to himself, 'She calls me her love.'

  'And for that she is a fool above all other fools,' the fell voice of Evna came to him.

  Daryas said nothing, but his heart swore to itself that he would free the woman to whom his heart was bound by fate from the dominion of that fell goddess who now tormented his mind from afar. 'Leonara, by doom itself I am tied to thee!' he wept, 'yet by choice also, for who upon earth is more lovely than you?'

  He fell asleep dreaming of her golden hair, and all through the night he could hear the sound of her voice, singing sad songs from a great distance.

  Cossa-la

  Thus it came to pass that we began the northward journey to the land of the sons of Cossa, wherein the ancient sword of Pelas was said to have been hidden away. 'If all things have not turned upside down we might hope for a welcome among the kin of my mother,' Daryas said as they turned from the northward road to head west toward the darkest place in Noras. Shaded by the Coronan mountains both in the north and the south, the land of Cossa-la received less light than the rest of the forest. The trees here were hardy and tall, however, and the Cossirne supported themselves chiefly with the lumber thereof. They would send the wood down the Gavl River to Galva-la, from whence they received whatever goods their own land could not provide for them. The deer in Cossa-la were somewhat numerous, but there was little else to eat and little land for farming. The women of Cossa-la, it was often said in jest, would trade their firstborn for a cask of pepper or for a ripened piece of fruit. Of all the lands of Noras, Cossa-la suffered the most danger from the goblins of the Coronan Mountains. Consequently, though their own warriors were fierce and brave, they did not undervalue the friendship of the Galvahirne, nor would they suffer any servant of Ponteris to pass within their borders.

  But though they might find here many allies, the exiles were hurried along by Rahdmus, who kept saying to them, 'If it is not done as it is commanded, then no amount of allies will avail you.' With great distress of spirit we marched on, Daryas and Revere still in the guise of furriers. As we broke camp on the twenty-fifth day of Florhus, the sky began to let fall, little by little, droplets of rain from the heavens. But by the end of that day it was as if we walked beneath a waterfall. Every step brought fresh discomfort to our already soaked feet. The horses liked it no better, shaking the water from their manes as though they were casting from their backs an unwanted rider. In this we traveled until we came at last to the Rilcos-la, a great labyrinth of rushing mountain streams. The waters from the high places of Coronan poured down into Cossa-la in rushing rapids, made deadly and fierce by the late spring rains. 'We cannot risk the rapids,' Daryas said, 'Not while we lead my brother's horse.'

  'You worry for Novai?' Revere laughed. 'I trust Novai to swim the rapids with ease. It is the cleric I worry for,' he said, with a glance in my direction.

  It was not until the seventh morning of Solest that we were able to make the crossing. The rivers had at last pushed their excess down to the Gavl Lake, and the stones that marked the crossings were once more visible. With some difficulty we came to the western shore of the Rilcos-la, from whence the Gavl River is born, and set our gaze to the north one more. Two days we climbed into the mountains and into the west, until we seemed to have come to the very deepest corner of Noras. This was a dark place, the mountains of the north and west loomed above us like menacing giants. To the east the trees of the forest were so tall that it seemed almost to be another mountain encircling us. But here, beside a small stream, we were surprised to find a large cave, opening into the mountain.

  The place was called Agoslei, and it was the place in which at last, it is said, the hero Galvahir and his comrade Cossa battled the devil king Agon. Cossa lost, in that battle, his right arm. But he and Galvahir were able to wound their foe. Agonistes then fled from them and made as if he would return to his own land to heal. But much to his horror, the Nine heroes had not given up on their pursuit. They came against him again and slew both he and his High Priest, beginning that slow decline of his worship in the west, the culmination of which was the great neglect of Sten-Agoni.

  'Here no man comes, nor does any spirit approach. It is both holy and profane,' Rahdmus said. 'It is holy because here lies the great sword of Pelas, about which so many tales have been told. This place is profane also, however, because here the blood of the devil king was spilled. But both of these, the holy and the profane, are only so in the eyes of the Noras. For Pelas is not a god.'

  We drew near the entrance of the cave and peered inside. Naught could be seen but darkness. From within a cold wind seemed to arise, indicating its great size and depth. 'We are to go in there?' I asked, trying to conceal the fright in my voice.

  Rahdmus laughed, 'No, the son of Biron is to go, and he will go alone.'

  'Alone?' Daryas said with surprise.

  'You do not wish to go alone?' Rahdmus said, almost as though he were surprised to hear him say such a thing.

  Daryas stood there silent as the very stones of the mountain for a long while. At last he shook his head and said, 'I will go alone.'

  'I would go with you if you desired it,' Rahdmus said. Revere said the same, as did I, though insincerely.

  'No,' Daryas said, 'But I am thankful that you are of such a mind.'

  'Beware, son of Galvahir,' Rahdmus said ere he left. 'That sword has been cursed by the one who rules the northern world.
It will cut your enemies asunder, but also your own soul, if there is anything doubtful within you.'

  The Old Shrine

  A torch was prepared and Daryas, leaving behind him all that he deemed he would not need, stepped into the darkness and was lost to sight for an entire day. Revere was of half a mind to seek him out, but Rahdmus forbid it, saying, 'Daryas alone knows the dangers below, and none of us can help him face them.'

  'What madness is this?' Revere asked. To this Rahdmus just shook his head.

  After descending into the cave, Daryas first noticed that the walls were cut with tools and not by nature alone. When he had continued along this path for some time he came at length to a place where there stood a great door of stone. He thought he would be forced to abandon his quest and return to the surface, when all of a sudden, the stone itself cracked and fell to the ground. Whether this was a sign or whether it was a coincidence he could not say; the stone had at last given way to the laws of nature that had long beckoned it to fall - or perhaps it was brought down by some other power. When the dust cleared, Daryas stepped carefully through the doorway. Within he saw that there was a small shrine built. There were hooks upon the wall for the hanging of lamps and in one corner there seemed to be the remnant of an air shaft, though the rocks had caved in many years ago. But it was clear that, at some point in time, this place was visited on a regular basis. On one side of the room, whether it was north or south he could not tell, there was the remnant of what must have once been a marvelous statue of glistening white stone. It was a statue of a beautiful woman with a small child upon her lap. But her head had at some point fallen off and shattered upon the floor. He did not know why, but a tear entered into his eye as he looked upon the ruins of so beautiful a thing. 'I doubt not that the maiden herself has likewise passed into memory,' he thought. Whatever ruin had come to the mother, the child seemed to be perfectly intact.

  Daryas continued beyond this room to another like it in shape, but filled with dusty scrolls and old books. He touched one of these with the tip of his finger, but it crumbled to dust in his hand. He was forced to use his sword to cut through the spiderwebs that grew in this room. At the far end of it there was what remained of a wooden door. He stepped through this and came to a long dark tunnel, the entrance of which was scarcely large enough for him to squeeze through. Almost without thinking, he hung his torch on a hook and climbed into the tiny hole, squeezing his whole body through. Inch by inch he crawled through that tunnel into the darkness until he almost came to believe that he had never known such a thing as sunlight, or any space wider than that dark place. But as he continued it became apparent from the coldness of the air and the ease of his descent that the tunnel was at last widening out.